Trial and Error
by R for Rebel
Summary: Wentaral is a werewolf; vermin to her family and run out of her own country. A stay in jail after a bar fight leads to the greatest adventure ever...her own life. With her wolf companion and cocky heir crush, how could she fail in saving Tamrial?
1. Perfect Mornings

_(My first __Oblivion__ fan fiction! (Fan girl squeal) Even if you have never played or heard about Oblivion, I made it easy for you to understand. Well, sort of. Note: The italicized bits in between the twinkly doodads are either things that happened in the past, things that are going to happen in the future, or are a dream. You'll be able to figure it out. I promise. Cross my heart and all that crap. Try to guess who the characters are. If you can't figure it out, you'll get it by the end of this chapter. (Really, you should already know if you read the description of the story, but hey, who am I to judge?) Wow, I really suck at writing these summaries at the top. Any ways, it took me a really long time to write this, so I hope you like it. Do enjoy! Kisses!-R for Rebel)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Oblivion; Bioware does._

_**Perfect Mornings**_

****

_His hand was the only thing that was warm out here. He leaned his face in so it nearly rested on my shoulder. __His breath tickled my ear, and I would have giggled under better circumstances. But now was not the time for laughter. Not from me. I frowned as new tears slid down my face._

"_Who needs me? Please, Error, tell me. Please tell me someone on this plane of existence needs me. Not to be a hero or a healer, but someone who needs me for me."_

_I turned away from him, my sobs choking me, refusing me further use of my voice. I swallowed hard and began walking the parapet back to the east watchtower. I heard his light foot falls behind me pick up until he was walking beside me. I glanced at him through my tears. His face was twisted in a look of deep concern and worry. I also noticed his mouth open more than once, as if he wanted to say something meaningful, but the words never came and his mouth always ended up shut. I felt sick to my stomach._

_Why couldn't he just say it? That he loved me? That he cared despite the fact that I was a werewolf? That he would be there for me if I ever needed to talk? If I ever needed a shoulder to cry on, like right now? I was pleading silently for him to say something._

_I stopped abruptly and turned back to the wall. He stopped too. I couldn't see him through the tears, but I sensed his halting. I looked out over the frost bitten forests of Bruma, wishing for the unthinkable._

_That's when the unthinkable happened._

****

I looked down at my only companion on the dirt road and smiled.

"So, Alima. What kind of fresh hell do you think we've gotten ourselves into now?" The large, pitch black wolf looked back at me with her big topaz eyes and whined with an almost human tone. She was nervous, or at least she sounded like it.

"My thoughts exactly."

From what I had gathered from the survivors, the city of Kvatch had been attacked by Deadra in the wee hours of the night and been reduced to a pile of smoking rubble. I hadn't actually seen it, but the absurd amount of smoke spewing from the ridge was enough evidence. As I walked through the camp, I did a head count. I was altogether floored when I only counted five people. _Oh my Gods, only five?!?_

I walked along the road leading out of the camp, heading toward the barricade set up by Savlian Matius and his guard. As I walked, my mind wandered back to the last few days. The first place I had gone after getting out of the damned Imperial Prison was Weynon Prior. Baurus, a Blade in the service of Emperor Uriel Septim IV until his highness' untimely demise, had told me to visit Grandmaster Jauffre. Jauffre, who was now living under the facade of an old monk, had once been a great Blade. With the Amulet of Kings in hand, I told Jauffre of my situation and asked for an explanation to everything I had witnessed. Jauffre had complied and began to basically tell me half his life's story.

Supposedly, a good couple years back, Jauffre had been given the mission of delivering the illegitimate son of the now late emperor to Kvatch in the hopes of securing the Septim throne. The baby had been named Martin and had been raised in the Chapel of Akatosh, with no premonitions of his royal heritage.

Which leads us back to my current situation; I have to find Martin, convince him he's the royal heir, spirit him out of Kvatch and back to the Priory, and try not to attract the attention of the Mythic Dawn. That had seemed relatively easy until the Deadra had destroyed the city in an attempt to kill the only thing standing in the way of their return. I sighed. Just another day at the office.

By this time, Alima and I had reached the top of the hill. I looked around and gasped.

The city walls were scorched. The surrounding forest was nothing more than burnt timber. There were no birds or wild life to be seen. Ash and soot covered the cobble stones and floated down around us. The sky had turned a deep, writhing crimson. All of this was reason enough to gasp, but the real thing that scarred me was the giant glowing red portal to Oblivion.

"Damn." I breathed. Alima whimpered, her ears and tail pressed low and her fur on end. She was ready to fight to the last. I smiled faintly and patted her head.

"Calm down, my friend. There is no need for that." Then looking around, added, "At least, not at the moment."

I tasted the air. Flesh, smoke, dirt. I had smelt that a mile away, though at the time I didn't realize what it meant. I sniffed again and was rewarded. Worn flax cloth and tarnished steel. The guards must be close. We traveled on, Alima pressed to my side, whimpering despite my gentle coaxing. I sighed again. This was going to be one hell of a day.

****

_Deadra swarmed up the steps. I breathed rapidly. I reached the edge of the chasm. Legs bent, I pumped hard and went flying. Arms wrapped around the glowing red orb, I began to fall._

****

_5 hours, 3minutes, and 39 seconds after departure_

The Gate vomited me back up onto the charred ground of Kvatch. I had landed face first and was losing conscience rapidly. Through a curtain of pain, I heard Alima barking. Coarse hands on my shoulders, flipping me over. A sigh of relief. Matius' voice.

"She'll be fine. Let's get her to the camp."

Everything went black.

****

_A pleasant breeze caressed my face. I smiled at the man next to me. Every time I looked at him, I was surprised by how handsome he was. Brown hair riming a chiseled face. Slightly tan, with a good build. And those eyes. A gorgeous mayflower blue._

"_Another week, give or take a few days." I shrugged my shoulders and turned to look out over a large grassy plain. I tried to hide the blush creeping over my face as I turned back. He groaned in mock annoyance. We smiled at each other for a moment._

"_Well," he said, the smile still there even when he turned away to grab his sack. "At least we've got each other."_

****

My stomach flipped. I sat up, my drowsiness melting into surprise. I hadn't had a dream that vivid in a long time. That stranger, the one from my dream…he seemed familiar. Where did I know him from? My thoughts were interrupted by the realization of what time it was. Alima's loud and obnoxious snoring halted for a moment as I stepped over her and cautiously snuck outside. As I sashayed noiselessly between the silent tents, I felt my canines sharpen and grow. The hairs on my body lengthened. My sight focused and my arms and legs morphed. I dropped to all fours and stretched my limbs. By this time I was out of the camp and in the forest. I licked at an unsettled tuff of white fur and, after looking around at my surroundings, lunged into the denser parts of the forest. I was hungry, and it was time to eat.

****

No one ever had a clue I left that night. In the early hours of the morning, I stepped back into my tent and got ready for the day. I slipped into my plaid shirt and soft leather pants, then pulled on my cuirass and laced up my boots. Alima yawned and stretched in the corner. She sleepily trotted over to where I was sitting on the bed. I patted her head.

"Good morning, my friend. Did you sleep well?"

She rolled her shoulders, much like a shrug, and sauntered out the flaps of the tent. I smiled to myself. I grabbed an apple of the table and walked out into sun. I turned right and began following Alima up the road. As I expected, Captain Matius and the Kvatch guard were back at the barricade.

"Matius." I said with a nod as I approached.

"Ah, Wentaral. Good to see you up and about. Sigrid said you should be fine by the morning, but I was a little worried…" He trailed of as he realized he was rambling. He coughed an apology and continued. "We decided to wait. Didn't want to start the push without you."

"Glad you did, captain. I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Are you prepared?"

"I was born prepared."

We began to walk towards the large oak doors leading into the city. Alima tried to follow, but I clicked my tongue at her, a signal for her to stay. She whimpered, but did not follow any more. I counted the distance. A quarter way there. A half. Three quarters.

There.

The doors opened and Deadra poured out.

****

The cathedral was dim, a few candles strewn here and there. I could hear them. The survivors. Moans of pain and sadness, cries from little children, sobs from men and women alike. Matius turned to me after a few moments of speaking to the guards who had been trapped in the cathedral.

"Some of the survivors were injured during the escape. Would you mind...?"

I was already walking down the stairs before he finished. "I'll be back in a minute."

I went around to the various occupants of the chapel; healing who I could and comforting others. My long red hair kept getting in my face, so eventually I pulled it back into a braid. I was working particularly hard on stopping an advanced infection on an elderly Imperial female's arm that I didn't hear someone come up behind me. I was trying to apply a salve of strawberry and comberry extract to the wound, but the woman was delusional from pain and would not let me anywhere near her.

"Back, you demon, back!" she screeched. "I've lived far too long to be taken down by you damn Deadra!"

I was about to give up when an Imperial male kneeled beside me.

"Calm down, Jezren." He whispered to the older woman, grasping both of her arms gently. His voice was both commanding and compassionate. He smiled at me before continuing. "This demon is here to help you. She'll take away the pain."

The elder looked up at this stranger. She opened her mouth, and then shut it. For the rest of my healing, she did not fight, just whimpered every so often. When I was done, she lay on her pallet, fast asleep from the drugs. I turned to the stranger to thank him and gasped.

He was very handsome. He had long brown hair that rimmed a chiseled face. He was slightly tan, and I could tell he was very fit under his cloudy blue robes, but it was his eyes that caught me off guard. They were a beautifully clear, mayflower blue. The man from my dream…

"Th-thank you!" I managed to stutter.

"It was not a problem at all, my lady. I was trying to find the ingredients for the balm myself, but we were running out of previsions, and I couldn't find the exact amount." He stopped and looked around. "Really, I should be thanking you. You have helped more people than I have." He stopped again. He seemed embarrassed to ask, but he did anyway.

"May I ask your name?"

"Wentaral, and yours?"

"Martin. It's a pleasure to meet you."

That threw me for a loop. The man from my dream was the heir to the Septim throne? Maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. Maybe my visions were coming back. But without any provocation..,?

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I answered back faintly. We began walking around the chapel, finishing any healing that was still needed. When that was finished, we sat in one of the pews to relax. We were both tired and I knew I had to break the 'your-the-heir-to-the-throne-and-your-father-was-an-emperor' news to him at some point. I sighed and decided to get it over with.

"Actually, Martin, I have something I need to tell you…"

****

8:32 pm

Matius lead the survivors out of the chapel and Martin and I brought up the end. It was a somber procession. I knew what was going through everyone of their minds. Survive one hell, enter another. Buildings were still burning and crumbling after two days and the air smelt of flesh and smoke. It looked like the hell I had seen in my picture prayer books as a child. We walked out the gates and down the road. Alima came and trotted beside me. Even she seemed a bit sad. After a few minutes trek, we made it to the camp. Martin and I did not stay to see how everyone reacted to each other, but instead made for my tent. I had told him it would be best if we stayed inconspicuous until we were fully prepared to head for Weynon Priory. Martin understood the caution and agreed. We decided that we would stay inside the tent as much as possible, and we were bent on keeping it that way.

Once inside, we sat down, him in a chair, me on my pallet. Alima curled up next to me and fell asleep. We sat there, avoiding the others gaze until I noticed Martin was frowning at my lap.

"Ummm…Excuse me?" I asked him with a slightly devilish smile. "Mind me asking what you're looking at?"

"Oh! I'm sorry!"He blushed a deep crimson and I fought the urge to laugh. He continued on. "I know what that must have looked like, but I…I wasn't…you're…Ummm…leg…its bleeding!"

I looked down and saw the blood too. I felt silly for embarrassing him and almost wished I hadn't said anything at all.

"Oh. I wonder when that happened." I stretched my leg out and noticed the leather had been cut clean through and there was a deep gash in the flesh underneath. It hurt as well. I wondered how I had not noticed it sooner. Then I thought I probably didn't notice it because I was preoccupied with a certain handsome priest. He came to kneel in front of me.

"May I?" He said as he began lifting the hem of my trousers.

"Go ahead."

He rolled up the sleeves of his robe and then rolled up the fabric of my pants until we could both see the gash in all its glory.

"Wow. You did a pretty good job at injuring yourself."

He set about fixing my leg. I took this opportunity to ask him about himself.

"What would you like to know?"

"How did you get that scar?"

He laughed, a low base to the high soprano of the crickets outside. It sent chills rippling through my body.

"Which scar? I have at least a dozen."

I smiled at him. "Tell me about them all, if you like. We do have time to kill."

He smiled and started telling me about his boyhood.

****

10:56 pm

"…and so I wrote my will down in the chapel undercroft with a piece of charcoal and parchment, thinking I was going to die. Ends up that Brother James found me fast asleep on the top step, huddled against the door. He woke me up and asked me why I was down there and my answer was I wanted to see the 'ghosties'."

We laughed so hard we ended up leaning against each other, trying to catch our breath. We had cracked a bottle of wine about an hour ago and were already on our third. You wouldn't have guessed it, looking at him, but Brother Martin could drink under the table with the best of them

"So," he said, "Which one do you want to hear next? The time I nearly got mauled by a bear or the time I nearly drowned?"

"Whichever has your fancy." I said, pouring more of crimson liquid into our glasses. "Cheers." I whispered before we both drained them of their contents.

He stretched out his legs and set his glass down on the dirt floor.

"Hmmm…Actually I have a better idea. Why don't you tell me something about yourself, seeing as I've nearly told you my whole life story."

"What would you like to know?" I asked with a smile, though I bet I looked like I was grimacing in pain, I was so liquored up.

He looked like he was deep in thought. Then he said, "Tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up?"

"In Valenwood, with my mother, father, and my sixteen siblings."

Martin's eyes bulged as he sat up straighter. "Did you say sixteen?"

"Yep. Eleven of them where from my father's earlier marriage. The priests said the poor old hag died of phenomena, but I think she died of exhaustion, if you know what I mean."

We both chuckled at the joke. I continued on.

"I'm the oldest of all of them."

Martin leaned forward in either interest or drunkenness and asked, "How old are you exactly?"

I chuckled again. "Now, Error, you never ask a lady how old she is. It's not polite!"

Throughout the last few hours, we had found fitting nicknames for each other. I had decided to call him Error do to the many stories of the mischief he had told me and he had decided to call me Trial because it was easier to say than my full name and it fit nicely with his. Trial and Error. He chuckled too at the use of his nickname but kept pushing the matter until I gave in.

"You really want to know how old I am?"

He nodded and waited. I sighed and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I'll be one-hundred and four on the fourteenth of Frostfall."

"Wow." He breathed and looked at me in wonderment.

"Yep." I said, a bit embarrassed.

He seemed to struggle with the next question and, I guess, not being able to say it gently, he decided to ask it bluntly.

"What race are you, Trial? I've been curious about it ever since I met you today. You're obviously aren't pure Bosmer, but you can't be a full Breton. You've got the elf ears."

I sighed. I had expected this. "I'm half Bosmer, and half Breton. And I'm a werewolf."

"You're a werewolf?" he slurred.

I nodded my head. I averted eye contact until I couldn't stand it anymore. He hadn't said anything yet, and if he didn't soon, I might go crazy. I decided to chance a glance at him. He was fast asleep, snoring softly into his chests. I smiled at the simplicity of it, and deciding I should get some sleep too, curled up next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. I was far too drunk to think straight. Or, at least, that would be my excuse.

****

11:57am

My first thought when I woke up was _Damn, my head hurts. _My second thought was _Shit, where's Martin?_ I lifted my head from the sack-clothe pillow it had been resting on and looked around the tent drowsily. He wasn't there. I got up clumsily and was about to go outside when the flaps to the tent opened and Martin stepped inside. Well, at least he looked like Martin. This man was wearing a worn green button down shirt and a pair of leather pants. His hair was also pulled back in a low ponytail.

"Martin?"

"Yes?"

"Either there was something in that wine that made me delusional or I'm seeing this for real, but you're wearing a shirt, a pair of pants, and your hairs pulled back. Am I hallucinating?"

He laughed. I shivered. "No, I'm guilty as charged. No one recognized me, either. They thought I was a traveler who had just come in." He chuckled again. "Poor Sigrid. I nearly gave her a stroke when I came up behind her and called her by name. That dear woman, she hit me outside the head." We both laughed.

"Where have you been?" I asked, sitting at the table and cutting off a piece of bread off the loaf.

"Getting supplies for the journey." Then addressing his disguise, said, "I hope you don't mind, because this is what I'll be wearing on the way to the Priory."

As he sat down with me, he took the rest of the loaf and devoured it in seconds. I shrugged. He must be hungry, after his ordeal yesterday.

"No, you look…handsome." I answered, and it was true. A few curls of hair had escaped from the thong holding his hair together and hung in his face slightly. The shirt accentuated his physique nicely and so did the pants. His features stuck out more with nothing to hide them, and his eyes shone like jewels. I guess I had been staring at him for some time, because when I looked back at his face, he was smiling at me devilishly.

"Well, if I get that sort of reaction from every woman I meet, I think I'll dress like this all the time."

I blushed a deep shade of red. "I'm…Ummm…sorry…I didn't mean to…Ummm…"

He laughed and I shivered again. I seriously wondered if I'd do that every time he laughed.

"Trial, you are the most amusing person I have ever met."

"Thanks, I think." I looked down at the table then closed my eyes. "So you don't mind that I'm…Ummm…" He looked at me, and then said, in all seriousness, "Wentaral, why should I mind? You're a werewolf. It's something about you. It defines you. There's nothing wrong with that. I do have some questions about it, though."

"Such as?" I replied, relieved.

"What do you eat? I've heard some things, things I don't think you would actually do, but…"

I smiled. I swiped a loose strand of ginger, tucking it back behind my ear. "Don't worry, Martin. Wolves need blood in general to survive. There is an alternative to eating human flesh, and that's eating animals. You can tell the difference between a feral wolf and a pure wolf."

He looked at me questioningly.

"Well, there's only one way to tell, and that's the eye color. Feral wolves will usually have colorless or dark eyes while as pure wolves usually will have colored eyes, such as gold or green."

He leaned back in the chair.

"What color are yours?"

"Well, my pack uses to tell me they were green with purple near the pupils."

I hadn't meant to let it slip I had once lead a pack. I looked down at the table. _Crap. _

"You lead a pack of werewolves? Would you mind talking about it?"

I decided to take the easy way out. Avoid it all together. "Now that's a story for another time."

"How do you know there will be a next time?"

I hadn't really thought about that. I smiled, reached across the table and took his hand. It was so warm and big. "I'm almost certain there will be a next time, Martin. We'll be there for each other. Promise." He smiled back. Thinking I had let go of his hand, I leaned back. I was studying his face when I realized I actually hadn't let go of his hand. I looked down at our clasped hands, resting on the table.

"We…Ummm…should probably start packing." he said quietly after a few moments. I nodded. Slowly, Martin removed his hand from the top of mine. After another eternity of silence, I got up from the table. Deciding I had to lighten the mood, I smiled at him and said, "Well, I have to get ready first, and if you don't want to make this anymore awkward, you'll go outside and wait." Then I smirked at him and added, "Unless you want to stay." Before I could say any more, I saw his eyes widen and his mouth open.

"What kind of man do you take me for!?!"

"An extremely gullible one." I laughed. "Now get out. I'll let you know when you can come back."

He got up from the table, shaking his head and smiling, and left. I changed my attire, smiling myself. I called him back in when I was done, and as he entered he had his hands over his eyes. He pulled one away.

"Is it safe?"

I laughed. "Yes, it's safe. What kind of woman do you take me for?"

He laughed as well, and again, I shivered. He leaned against the middle post. I guess he thought I wasn't looking at him as I leaned down to tie my boots, because I saw his eyes travel to places priests' eyes shouldn't. He looked like he was about to say something when he looked around. His eyes narrowed questioningly.

"Trial, where's Alima?"

I looked around and sighed. I was about to reply when the wolf in question walked through the flaps, a dead rabbit clamped between her jaws. My mouth dropped open in disgust. After a glance at Martin, I saw he had the same reaction.

"Oh my Gods! Alima, that's disgusting! You have no idea where that things been! Drop it. Now!"

Alima, obviously enjoying the fact she got a reaction out of me, shook her head and bolted out the door. I took off after her, with Martin close on my heel, both of us calling after her. I couldn't help but start smiling again as I tripped over the uneven road. It was turning out to be a perfect morning.

_****_

_(Wow, it's finally done! (wipes brow of imaginary sweat)I hoped you liked it. The second chapter will be out soon. Authers Fact: I used my little bros name for the preist Martin mentioned in his story of getting trapped in the chapel crypt. I think I'll leave Author Facts in all my chapters. Make it interesting. Until next time!-R for Rebel)_


	2. All that Glitters

_(Ello everyone! I'm baaaccckk!!! You know how I said I was going to put Author Facts in my chapters? Well, I decided to do something else. I'm going to start dedicating my chapters to fellow fanfictioners . If you send me a PM with a sentence from any part of my story with an explanation on why you chose it, and if you impress me, the next chapter will be dedicate to you(Note: you must state which chapter you would like dedicated to you, so I can keep track of them)! Isn't that awesome? Note: If you're the one who impresses me, but you've already had a chapter dedicated to you, it goes to the runner up. Since I just announced this, the first chapter and this chapter will be dedicated to __Leah's-Other-Side__, the first person to review my story. Huzzah! I hope you like the second chapter of __**Trial and Error**__. Don't forget to send your PMs. I hope you enjoy! Kisses!-R for Rebel)_

_As always, a disclaimer: I do not own any part of Oblivion (except for Wentaral, of course), Bioware does._

_**All that Glitters…**_

****

_I stood in the middle of a cobbled street. It was raining. I wiped my face of the drops and when I pulled it away my hand was covered in blood. I tried to wipe it off on my pants leg, but it wouldn't come off. I looked up. The sky was a giant red mass above me, showering me in blood. The streets turned crimson and began to flood. I tried to run from the tide, but it pulled me in. I screamed._

****

_Third day together, 2:32 am_

I woke up screaming, drenched in nothing more than sweat. My eyes flashed open in a panic. I was about to strike out at the worried face that was above me when I realized who it was and were I was.

"Shhh, Wentaral. It's alright. You're safe."

Martin sat back on his haunches as I sat up. Alima, who had woken up as well, simply went back to bed.

"Did I wake you again?" I asked, rubbing my face of sleep and getting up to sit by the dyeing fire.

Martin waved his hand as he came to sit with me. "Oh, of course not. I'm up at three every morning." He said sarcastically. He stretched then, eyes closed as the muscles moved under his exposed chest and arms. I studied his face. There were circles under his eyes, and the creases of the scars on his chest and the one above his right brow showed in the shadows the embers cast. It was cool out and goose bumps erupted all over my body as a gust of wind wiped away any reminisce of sleep. I moved closer to the fire and curled into a ball. My right hand, which was always gloved for safety purposes, rubbed my left arm, trying to get the blood to warm. He yawned as he began to coax the fire to light again. I swatted his hand away haphazardly and cast a small fire spell. A tiny flame licked the tips of my fingers as I leaned forward to touch the slightly charred logs. The leftover kindling caught and began to glow.

"Which one was it this time?"

As I returned to a sitting position, Martin grabbed the blanket that had been lying on the log we were leaning against. He placed it around my shoulders. I tugged at it, wishing I had been more thoughtful and not worn a sleeveless top and a pair of short trousers to bed. The blanket did nothing to warm me, internally or externally.

"The Kvatch chapel, but this time I was standing on the road leading to the Priory." I shook my head. The Kvatch dream haunted me the most. All those innocents…I felt my eyes begin to tear and I blinked hard. "Same nightmare, different scenery." I said quietly.

Seeing my emotional façade beginning to slip, he placed a warm arm around me and gently began pulling me closer. I leaned into him until my head was resting on his shoulder. After only a few moments, a lot shorter than it usually took, I was sobbing silently into his chest, screaming words of sadness and bitter hatred silently at myself, though they came out as wet gasps for air on the outside. He wrapped both arms around me and held me closer. I gripped on to him, not wanting to let him go. I was so _mad_. Mad at myself, mad at the Gods. The first for not being able to protect the people who needed to be protected, the latter for screwing with my life. I noticed through my haze of sadness and despair that he was extremely warm. He pulled away slightly and put his fingers under my chin, guiding my face up to look him in the eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes. He wiped his thumb across my cheek slowly, erasing the tears that had been there only moments ago. He looked deep in thought. Finally, quietly, he opened his mouth and spoke.

"They will grow less frequent, less disturbing. Eventually, you'll be okay." He looked out over the grassy meadow we had camped in for the night. "You're lucky." He said, turning his face away so I couldn't see it at all. His voice was slightly muffled when he spoke again. "You have someone to help you."

I tried to laugh but ended up hiccupping. I smiled slightly through the tears.

"Sounds like a story. Am I right, Brother Martin?"

I had been trying to make him laugh by using a title long gone, to lighten his suddenly dark, brooding mood, but I could tell his face was still anxious and creased in thought. Finally, he turned back.

"Well, I guess it could be considered one. If you'd be willing to listen…"

"I guess I could make time." I said with a crocked smile. "But you better hurry. I'm on a tight schedule."

The snide remark earned me a warm, appreciative smile as he started in to his story.

"Back at Kvatch, when we were still trapped in the chapel, I would have nightmares. A lot like yours. They were filled with blood and destruction. Smoke and death." He untangled his left hand from around me and ran it through his sleep addled hair, distracted for a moment. Funny, I hadn't known he was left-handed. He sighed and slipped his hand back around my waist. I don't think he realized what he was doing. He was a little caught up in his thoughts at that moment. He continued. "I would try not to let it bother me, but it became too much. I tried to skip sleep all together. That did nothing. My first night of good sleep after the attack was when we got drunk and fell asleep leaning against each other." We both smiled slightly as the memory momentarily blocked other thoughts. "I don't know what it is about you, but having you here…It's made a world of difference. I haven't had a nightmare since that night." He blushed. So did I. At that moment, Martin realized how close we were. He slowly pulled away. He smiled then said meekly, "I'm obviously not a great comfort, but I must have done something right." He placed his hand tentatively on my now dry check. "You've stopped crying."

Even though he had released me, I still felt his arms around me. I shivered as the dawn air whisked the warmth away. "Actually, Error, you're a great comfort. You've helped me so much these last few days." Then I smirked. "Hell, I think I would have left you on the side of the road awhile ago if you couldn't do anything useful. Though maybe we could use that monstrous snore of yours to scare away all the bad woodland critters." He chuckled and playfully punched me in the arm. Then a sudden thought struck him.

"Have you eaten yet?"

If you had asked any other person that question, they would have thought you were talking about food. Regular, normal food. But seeing as I wasn't a normal person, I knew what Martin meant when he asked the simple question that had so many meanings. I shook my head.

"I was going to go around an hour ago, but…" I trailed off. "I guess I'll go now."

"Be careful." He said as he began to put out the fire and go back to bed. I trotted towards the edge of the clearing.

"Aren't I always?" I heard his laughter even after I was out of sight.

****

_Third day together, 9:12 am_

Alima was having a hay day running after the various, unfortunate critters that happened upon us. Diving in and out of the brush like a fish, she looked rabid, her tongue hanging loosely out of her mouth and her eyes bright with excitement. It made me smile in pure and honest delight, like a proud mother watching her children play, for just a moment. Martin walked leisurely beside me, hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed. His hair was coming loose again, and some of the strands flowed out behind him. He looked so at easy. My own hair was being tugged at by the breeze's clever little fingers, making the ends of it dance about my waist. The sleeves of my plaid shirt kept falling down my ivory arms, which swayed slightly by my sides as I walked. We were traveling the road out of Cheydinhal, where we had stopped to resupply and take a short rest. It was beautiful today. The wind had turned from the chill it had been this morning to a warm, gentle breeze. The sky was clear and blue, the clouds floating lazily by. There was only one problem with this scenario: I was worried. _Very _worried. It couldn't be this nice. Something bad was going to happen any minute now. I just knew it.

"Your face is going to get stuck like that, you know."

"What?" I asked, confused beyond belief. I looked at my companion. He was smiling at me with obvious amusement. He kicked a rock on the road, sending it flying a few feet. Alima had disappeared into the woods.

"Your face. It's going to get wrinkled up if you keep scrunching it like that."

As If I could wipe away the embarrassment ringing clearly through my head, I brought my hand up to rub the side of my face then ran it through my loose tresses. "Sorry, I was thinking."

"About what?" he prompted gently, seeing the obvious anxiety written on my face.

"This is too…" I threw my hands up to make my point. "Perfect." I finished, not being able to come up with a better word.

"How so?" He stopped and sat on a boulder a little ways off the beaten trail, figuring it was too hard to walk and talk at the same time. I sat down beside him with a sigh.

"Well, I keep getting the feeling something very wrong is about to happen." I looked out over the sprawling lands of Cyrodil, trying to piece together my next sentence so it would make some sense. The land sloped away from us gradually, giving way to the lush fields and forests the West Weald was known for. The scent of pine and lilies-of-the-valley wafted to my nose on the breeze, and I breathed it in with welcomed reverence. I stretched my arms and was about to continue my confession when a pained, drawn out wail ripped the air apart. We were off and running towards the sound before it ended its last sour note.

"Speak of the Deadra." I huffed as we tripped our way through the densely packed forest, Martin's short sword and my silver bow at the ready. We broke into a clearing just as another moan filled the air. My quick eyes flashed about the open area until they rested on the limp form of Alima, lying motionless on the grass. A large, fat ogre stood above her. It lifted a flabby arm, ready to strike the final blow. My bow twinkled in the sun as I brought it up and aimed. The arm began it descent downwards just as I let the arrow fly. The beast let out a cry of pain, clutching at the shaft of the arrow, which was imbedded in the thick fat of its skull.

"Nice shoot." Martin whispered.

"When lives are at stake," I lifted by bow and aimed again. "I'm brilliant."

The ogre, giving up on the arrow, turned and eyed us with bloodlust. It bellowed, making any other remaining wildlife that was still about flee in terror. I took this moment to loosen another arrow, which embedded itself in the belly of the already wounded and angered animal, making it all the more angry and wounded. At that moment, it charged. Before I could stop him or pull out my own sword, Martin stepped in front of me and raised his sword. At the last moment, he pushed me aside. The ogre hit him with full force, sending him flying backwards.

"Martin!" I screamed from where I lay in the grass, pure terror pulsing threw my head and veins. The ogre screamed as it fell past Martin, and after a moment, I saw why. On impact, Martin's sword had been pushed up to the hilt into its chest, piercing it clear through. Even with the fatal wound the ogre was still very alive and kicking. After it was sure Martin was down for the count, it turned and charged at me.

"Oh, hell no." I said as I got up. My bow was too far away and I was in too much shock to concentrate on my magicka. In a split second, I resorted to my final, most deadly weapon. I wiped off my glove and posed myself to strike. The ogre was closing in when I decided he was close enough. I sprang towards him, my right hand smashing into his face. We both fell backwards, the ogre shrieking and twitching from the brain frying energy vibrating from my hand. After a few moments, the twitching and shrieking ceased. Then came the visions.

****

_Running. Forest. This forest. Black and white. A wolf. A pitch black wolf. In his territory. Stupid wolf. It must be killed. Hit. Smash. Wolf is not dead, just broken. Lift arm. Pain. Head in pain. Turn. Small, white monsters hit him with hurt sticks. Two monsters. Anger. Another hurt stick. Running. Hit. Pain. Long, big hurt stick in chest. Pain. Anger. Fear. One monster broken. Turn. Running. Head in pain._

****

I got up and stumbled backwards, trying to collect myself. _Poor guy. He was so scared. _Through a daze, I looked at the damage. A blistered, hand shaped mark stretched across the ogres still shocked face. It was obviously dead. I began seeing stars. The fringes of my vision began to fade and blacken. I stumbled backwards and then nearly tipped face first in to the ground. _No, you can't faint now. You have to save Martin. _The realization that someone could die if I fainted smashed in to my thoughts. I forced my head to clear and I replaced my glove. _That must have hurt._ I thought as I turned away from my victim and ran towards my fallen comrade. As I approached, I saw blood smeared across his shirt. _Oh my Gods._ I knelt beside Martin.

"Martin?" I asked softly as I lifted his head and rested it in my lap. His eyes fluttered.

"Ugh…" he moaned. I untied my medicine bag and placed it on the ground. My hands went to his shirt and with trembling fingers I removed it. A large, deep gash snaked its way across his chest and down along his stomach. Blood was flowing freely down into the dirt, turning it into crimson mud. A hundred deadly outcomes came with the sight, and I could feel the tears begin to prick my eyes.

"Don't worry, Error. I'll save you this time." I ripped off a piece of my own shirt and pressed it to the wound. Taking my left hand away from the temporary bandage, I felt around inside my pack for a certain vial. _Chameleon, Restore Fatigue, Potion of Persuasion. _I ticked them off in my head as my fingers glided hurriedly across the labels. Finally, I gave up. I pulled my hand out and pushed it into a different pocket of the bag. _Redwort flower, Tiger Lily nectar, Imp Gail. _The bottles of the different ingredients varied in size and shape, making it difficult to find the right one.

"I'd like to be saved sometime today, if you don't mind, Trial." Martin's voice only trembled slightly and his eyes opened only a little as he spoke. He smiled weakly at me.

"By Akatosh!" I cursed, relief washing through me. "Martin Tiberius Septim, if it weren't for the fact that you're pumping out blood faster than rats multiply, I would punch you right now!" He chuckled softly. "And another thing," I said as I brought out a vial of Boar Blood and some bread. "Next time we're being charged at by a big, sweaty ogre, don't play the hero, damn it!" I saturated the bread in the blood and began wiping it around the wound. Though Martin tried to hide it, the pain was etched all over his face. I felt sorry for him and when I spoke again it was softer and with more compassion.

"This will help with the healing process. Boar blood and bread works magic on wounds. I fear you'll get an infection but hopefully, it will do the same for you." I took off my shirt altogether and ripped it into long bandages, then helped him sit up so I could dress his wound. After I was done, I helped him get up and we walked, or hobbled in Martin's case, back towards the clearing where Alima was still unconscious. As we passed the corpse of the ogre, Martin looked at its face in shock.

"Wentaral, what did you do?" he asked hesitantly.

"Nothing. I'll tell you after I get the camp site set up and you rested."

We came upon the still limp body of my friend then. I helped Martin to a tree where he rested while I treated Alima and began busing myself with making the tents. We couldn't go very far with an unconscious wolf and an injured man, so setting up camp in the clearing was the best option. It was getting dark, anyways. I was crouched down, finishing the fire, when I heard the snap of a twig and, thinking more trouble had arrived, turned around. As I whirled, I threw my leg out, catching the fellow who had come up behind me on the shin, tripping him forwards. I heard him grunt in pain as he hit the ground and when he flipped back over, I sprang onto him. I was about to snap his neck when he spoke.

"Good Gods, Wentaral, it's me!" Martin said, his breath strangled from the death grip I had on his throat.

"Holy crap! I'm so sorry, Martin!" I released my hands and slide off him to kneel on the dirt ground next to where he lay still panting. "How did you get over here so quietly? More importantly, how did you get over here?"

I helped him sit up and moved a log over so he could lean against it.

"I have ways." He said weakly. I laughed on the outside, but on the inside I felt bad.

"You need to rest." I coaxed gently. "Come on, I'll help you to bed."

"I too tired to complain." He replied as he placed an arm around my shoulders for support. "I just want you to know you still owe me an explanation. Or a cold drink. Your chose"

I rolled my eyes as I helped him to his pallet. "You sure are a rascal for being a priest."

He smiled at me before he closed his eyes. "I wasn't always a priest."

I scowled and walked back to the fire. Damn his wit.

****

_Second day at the clearing, Sixth day together, 2:14pm_

As I had feared, Martin's wound did become infected. That night, at midnight, I awoke and had a premonition he needed me. When I went to check on him, I found him drenched in sweat and suffering from a fever. I had stayed up with him, held a pail to his face when he had to vomit, swabbed his forehead with a cool rag, and restrained him when his delusions made him violent. Once, when he was delusional, he got a hold of a knife and slashed my face. I now had a new scar running down the side of my left check, next to the three claw scars I had from my glory days. At some points, he was well enough to make snide remarks about a variety of things, and I tried my hardest to be optimistic, but it was tough. On the sixth day, a little after noon, we were inside the tent, Alima snoring quietly next to me as rain pattered against the animal hide. I was undressing Martin's bandages to check on the progress of his wound. I was looking it over when he awoke from his fever induced sleep.

"So, doc. How's the patient?" he asked weakly, his eyes slightly glazed but still alert.

"Martin," I began slowly, wishing I didn't have to give him bad news right when he woke up. "I'm going to have to reopen the wound and drain it. It's the last thing I want to do, but considering we're running out of options, it's the most promising solution." His eyes, which had closed as I had spoken, opened again to study my face.

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?" Him saying that came damn close to breaking my heart, and I had to look away so he didn't see the tears glistening in my eyes.

"Yes." I whispered.

He closed his eyes again. "I'm glad you're the one to do it."

Before I could think about what I was doing, I leaned forward and kissed his boiling hot forehead. My hair fell into his face. I pulled back. "Oh Akatosh, I'm sorry. Martin, can you ever forgive me for throwing you into this hell of mine?"

He smiled at me. "One man's hell is another man's adventure." He shrugged his shoulders then winced from the pain. When he recovered, he continued. "Depends on which way you look at it."

I smiled back at him. "You're a saint, you know that? A true saint!"

"Well, I am related to one."

I shook my head, still smiling. Then slowly, I sobered myself.

"I can't give you anymore medicine, for I might overdose you."

"I understand."

"I can't knock you out. I need you conscious during the process."

"I understand."

"I'm getting kind of hot, so I'm going to take off my clothes."

"I-what did you say!?!" Martin's eyes opened wide in surprise.

I laughed. "Wanted to make sure you were actually listening." I pulled out my small boot dagger and prepared fresh bandages then began working on restraints. When those were finished, I tied his hands and feet to stakes. "I'm going to start. Are you ready?"

He closed his eyes and nodded his head. I began.

****

_6:39pm_

He lay, panting and unconscious from the pain, on the bed, his wrists and ankles rubbed red from the hours of struggle. I sat in the corner, sobbing silently. All the pain I had put him in washed over me and I felt like I was going to get sick. The gash had been reopened, drained of all the impurities, and re-bandaged. Over all, it had been a success, but to me, it felt like I had tortured a poor, defenseless creature. After I was done crying, I crawled over to where he lay and undid the restraints, then bandaged the wounds he had given himself. Alima had skittered out the flaps at the first screams. I thought about going to my own tent and getting some sleep, and then decided to stay and sleep with Martin. It was the least I could do, after what I did, to be there if he woke up and needed something. I curled into a ball next to him.

"Good night, my sweet prince."

****

_Large doors stood guard at the front of a tall, majestic fortress. They slowly swung open. There was a large, steep staircase. An older man, a younger looking one, and a young female walked up the stairs and into a crowd of cheering, sword-wielding people. The younger man stepped to the front of the crowd and opened his mouth._

_****_

_Fifth day at the clearing, ninth day together, 10:21 am_

I stretched and yawned. The sound of birds and the sunlight seeping through the flaps of my tent told me the day was going to be gorgeous. I got up and started a breakfast of sliced venison, potatoes, and caramelized apples, which were Martin's favorite. As I was preparing the plates, Martin walked out of his tent shirtless, stretching and yawning. The bandages wrapped around his waist and chest looked like they were the only thing keeping him together, though I knew for a fact that a new, bright pink scar was just forming underneath them.

"Error," I began, the slightest bit of curiosity seeping into my voice. "Do you ever wear a shirt to bed?"

"No. No I don't." He replied with a smile. "At the chapel, we weren't allowed to be without clothing at any time, except for bathing and what-not." He took a bite of meat as he sat down next to me.

"So your exploiting every last drop out of it, aren't you?"

"That's the idea."

I laughed around a piece of potato. We sat there in silence and I began to wonder why until I looked at Martin. He was starring at my face.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Did I give you that?" He asked, his face contorted with worry. His hand came up to touch the scar on my check. I reached up as well to grip his hand and pull it away. I rested it on his knee and kept my hand around it.

"Yes, but don't get upset. You were pretty out of it, and really, I shouldn't leave sharp objects around my delusional patients." He gave a small smile in the way of an apology. I removed my hand after a quick squeeze and went back to eating. When I looked back him, I saw him starring at me again. I followed his gaze and saw he was looking at the glove on my right hand this time. The glove itself was nothing exciting. It was made of thin leather with a pattern of tiny purple and red triangles embroidered around the edge.

"Something else the matter?" I asked again, a bit exasperated.

"Uhhh…Well…,"Martin seemed almost uncomfortable. "You told me you would tell me the reason you wear that glove. I was wondering if you would tell it to me now."

_Well, it was going to happen eventually._ I set down my now empty plate. Reaching across him, I toke Martin's plate, set it down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up in one, smooth motion.

"H-hey! Where are we going?" I looked back at him as I pulled him into the forest. His face did not contain fear, only curiosity. I hadn't let go of his hand. I stopped.

"Do you trust me?" I asked him. I was pleased when he answered right away.

"Of course."

"Then trust me now." I said as I lead him further into the forest. Finally, we came to the brook I had collected water from when Martin was sick and I began walking beside it, heading towards the source.

"Wow." I heard him whisper as we broke out of the forest and came face-to-face with a large waterfall. The crystal waters splashed down into an equally clear pool. Fish swam in small schools, reflecting sunlight off their scales.

"Take off your clothes." I ordered. I slipped off my shirt and pants. When I was done, I looked up to see if he was finished and found him staring at me in bewilderment.

"Really, Martin?" I asked in exasperation, as if I could read his mind.

"Well, usually when someone of the opposite-"

"Oh, just shut up and trust me!"

His jaw shut with an audible click as he took off his pants and stood in his undergarments and bandages, his face twisted with embarrassment. I slipped off my glove and held my hand up so Martin could see it. The hand was long and thin, and was totally pale except for the purple and red markings that swirled and crisscrossed on the flesh of the palm and wrapped themselves around the gentle curves of the fingers. Martin's mouth fell open again.

"Ever since my birth, I have had these markings." I began. "They are a warning to others. To stay away. To not touch." I traced the marks with the index figure of my left hand and felt the familiar, comforting tingle that went through my hand. I brought it back up so it could catch the sunlight. The purple swirls seemed to glitter where as the red seemed to glow with a mystical energy. "Martin, I could kill you right now if I touched you, even accidently, with my pinky figure." That made his mouth shut again.

"How?" Was the only question that seemed to come to mind.

"I've never been able to figure that quite out. It's some sort of energy that flows throw my fingers, I think." I flexed my fingers and watched as the lines rearranged themselves into a different pattern, this time on the back of my hand. I turned back to him. "Come on." I said as I waded into the water. It was icy cold, but I could have cared less. He followed me in. "Stop right there." I told him when he was up to half thigh in water. "I don't want you getting your bandages wet."

"What are you doing?" He asked as I waded further in.

"I want to make sure you know how dangerous I can be." In the twinkle of an eye, my right hand sliced into the water. When I brought it back up again, a fish was twitching uncontrollably in my hand, its mouth opened wide, eyes bulged. I felt the power flowing out of me. Martin watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as it flinched one last time and then was still.

"Oh, sweet Kynaraith." He whispered in terror.

That cut me to the core, seeing him stare at me like that. I dropped the dead fish and slide my glove back on. I felt faint from lose of energy, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins wouldn't let me relax. My hurt quickly turned into anger, and my tongue was quicker than my mind. "Well, Martin, you wanted to know." I spat at him, my words dripping with poison. "That's the ugly truth about me. My touch can kill." He flinched on the last word. I sloshed as fast as I could out of the water, trying to get away from his stare. I started seeing stares again. _No. Don't faint. _Then everything went blank. _You blacked out again. _I thought. Then colors began to swim back in front of me. _Or maybe you didn't. _Sounds reached me at that moment.

"No, please, Wentaral. I didn't mean to anger you." Martin was saying. _When did we get so close? _I wondered, realizing I was pressed up against him, his hand wrapped around my waist. I tried to look away but he gripped my chin with his free hand, guiding it up, making me look him in the face. The instant I looked him in the eyes, it felt like I couldn't look away. He did look upset by my reaction. "Please, Trial. I…I was just shocked." He seemed to be struggling for words. I don't know when our lips met, but when I realized they had, you bet I was shocked. What shocked me even more was how good his lips tasted against mine. He was so warm. I didn't realize he was carrying me towards the bank until then either. I guess we had still been standing in the pool. My mind must have really run away with me. He laid me down on the grass, never breaking the kiss. I closed my eyes. His hands rubbed my back. Then they were gone.

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. I sat up and looked around. I spied Martin sitting a few feet away. _Crap, you were dreaming. _I got up and began walking towards him. My head was pounding like the morning after I've downed a bottle of wine by myself. Not like I ever did that, but I have gotten drunk before, and this felt damn close to that. _How did I get back to the bank in the first place? _He didn't hear me as I approached.

"Martin, what the hell happened?" I groggily asked his stunned face as I sat down next to him.

"You tell me. One moment you where standing in the middle of the pool, the next you're out cold in my arms. I carried you back to the bank. You scared the living daylights out of me." I looked up at the sky and saw the sun straight above. About noon. I had been out for a while. "Hey," He began, and then stopped. This time, for real, he was struggling for words. He started again. "Look, I'm really sorry about-"

I cut him off. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thought you would accept that right away." I turned to look at the waterfall. "I just wanted you to know how dangerous it is to be around me. Please, I don't want this to change anything between us." I turned back to look at him.

He was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and worry as he answered. "Wentaral, it doesn't change a thing between us. I'm already your friend and I always will be," He motioned to my hand. "mystical killing hand or not."

We smiled at each other. He looked down at his lap then squinted up at the sky. "So, did anything happen while you were out?"

I brought my knees up to my chin. "I had a dream, that's all."

He looked at me curiously. "What dream?"

_Oh no… _"Ummm…It was nothing, really. Just my mind running away with me. A silly little fantasy." At least that was true. I held my breath as I waited for him to respond.

"Well, is there a reason why you fainted?" he asked. I let out my breath in the form of a sigh and decided to collect myself before answering. As I thought, my eyes traveled around until they rested on a site for sore eyes. Martin was still shirtless and I could see his bandages, but he had put his pants back on. His tanned, trimmed arms stretched out behind him, supporting his upper body. That's when I realized I was back in my shirt. _He must have put it back on me. How sweet, in an odd sort of way. _

"It may have been my powers. Sometimes, when I use them, they drain me to the point of complete exhaustion." I shrugged my shoulders at his worried look. "I'll be fine, don't worry." Then a sudden thought came to me. "Ummm…Error?"

"Yes?"

"Did I say anything while I was out? Like anything odd or out of character?"

"Well…," He began, deep in thought until a devilish grin spread across his face. "You were repeating my name over and over again." Seeing the horrified look on my face only added fuel to the fire. He continued with a smile that reminded me much of a wolf's. "Do you always have dreams about me? I mean, if you do, I'm not going to pretend that it's not creepy, but it is flattering."

I punched him in the arm. "You know, for a priest," I began as I got up and started walking towards the pond. "You sure have a big head."

He got up and ran after me. "Hey! You gave me a big head! And I already told you. I wasn't always a priest." He was still smiling as he stopped behind were I was knelling down to pick up my pants.

"Just because you're now the heir to the throne doesn't mean you can be a total ass to the Hero of Kvatch."

"Oh, who's the one with the big head now?"

We were still laughing as we walked back to the camp.

_(Did you like it? Did you love it? If you did, tell me! Author's Fact: Alima's character is based upon my dog, Annie, who is my faithful friend through it all and that quote Wentaral whispers to Martin after the procedure is from the play Hamlet. Also, the dream Wentaral has at the beginning of the chapter is foreshadowing to an event that happens later on in the story and the game. On a happier note, I hope all you Martin fan girls squealed like I did as I wrote the parts where Martin is shirtless and loving it. And if you people didn't get that part at the waterfall, Wentaral __had a dream__ about kissing Martin. She did not actually kiss him. And one last thing, because I know I'm just babbling on and on. If you don't like the way Martin is portrayed as being meekly if not thoughtfully cocky and a tad immature, I could care less. I wanted to give him more depth, make him more likable and relatable. In this story, he is in his twenties, probably younger than he is in the game, though you could argue he looks older only because he's worried most of the time(with the Oblivion gates everywhere and assassins trying to kill him all the time, I bet he would be!). Okay, this is the last thing: If you're wondering what is up with Wentaral, it will be revealed in the next chapter, so quick; send your PMs! Anyway, I hope you liked the new chapter. I just know you'll like the third one! Don't forget to send your messages! Thanx for reading! Kisses! – R for Rebel)_


	3. The Protege Part 1

_(Hello! How is everyone? Good? Good. To start, this chapter isn't dedicated to anyone because NO ONE IMed for it and I got tired of waiting. So, here it is. Fresh off the press for your crazy asses to enjoy. So, I was thinking about what to write for this chapter and I decided to give the characters in this story some more back story(Yes, even Martin. You never hear about his childhood directly, so I'm adding that in). Also, guess what!?! I'm adding a new character to the mix! An even bigger surprise? It's one you don't know(Yes, even __you__ Oblivion fanatics)!!! I hope you like this chapter, 'cause you know I enjoyed written it. Remember to send your PMs. Do enjoy! Kisses! – R for Rebel)_

_Disclaimer: I am not worthy to own any part of the Oblivion game or characters in it, so the awesome task falls to Bioware_

_**The Protégé: Part One**_

****

"_Mother!" I screamed, fighting against the too strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist._

"_Wren! Oh, my baby! Wren!" She fought against my father's arms, trying to reach out and pull me away from the men._

"_Xeanra! It's for the best!" my father was trying to calm her. "Monsters like that don't belong among people like us. She's no longer our daughter. She one of those vermin. She's a werewolf!"_

_My mother turned and was screeching something at the man, but I could not hear what she was saying. I was thrown in to a coarse sack by just as coarse hands. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see. I felt the ground move below me. _Merindala, how could you? _I remembered thinking. After hours of crying, I fell asleep._

****

_Eleventh day together, 6:37am_

"Wentaral! Wentaral, wake up!" Someone was shaking me.

"Ugh…" I moaned, completely disoriented. I flipped over. "Stupid dreams…" I groaned.

"Trial, this isn't a dream." I heard a bewildered voice say above me. I flipped back over and opened my eyes a crack. All I saw was a dim out line of Martin's face.

"Martin, what's wrong?" I asked, bewildered by the urgency of his voice and actions. I sat up and as I did so heard him snort.

"Your what's wrong, Trial." He said, shaking his head in disbelief. I rubbed my eyes of sleep and, becoming fully aware of my surroundings and who I was in the presence of, pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. He sat down fully and adjusted his legs into a more comfortable position. I looked at him quizzically. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. "I woke up to you whimpering and yelping. I could hear you from next door. I ran in here to see what had happened and found you tossing all over the place." He snorted again, but this time, half-heartedly. "You looked like a beached slaughter fish."

I reached over to pet a newly acquainted Alima and then chuckled softly. "Sorry. I was having a dream." I looked at his still unsettled face. He raised a concerned eyebrow and frowned at me knowingly. I stopped petting my partner in crime and folded my hands in my lap. I glanced down at them then looked back into his eyes. I smiled at him sheepishly.

"Okay, more like a nightmare. There, you happy?"

He sighed in exasperation and got up to light a new candle in the lantern hanging from the central post.

"That's kind of obvious."

He flicked a match and brought it up tentatively to the wick. I watched him with groggy fascination. He was so _graceful_. Everything he did was so poised, like he had done everything at least a thousand times before and refined it to its best. His smooth, swift flick of the match. His gentle care of the tiny flame. It made me feel like I was a giant, brutish minotaur or something else large and clumsy. The wick caught fire and began to glow. The small tent became cast in shadows. As he sat back down about a foot away from me on the dirt floor, I realized three things. One, Martin was shirtless. _As usual_ I thought with a mental eye roll. Second, it was raining._ Sounds like its pouring out there._ Third, I smelled smoke. _Must be close if I can smell it through the rain._ I sniffed again, but the wind had changed direction, and any further thoughts on the subject were pushed away for the moment as Martin's warm hand poked me gently in the shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed. I rather wished I didn't have to burden him with my life story. He had told me about his childhood and young adult hood that first day of our meeting, but I could barely remember any of those stories. It was probably full of boy hood mischief and adventures, though I could really not remember any of it. We had been very drunk. I decided I would have to ask him about some other time.

"Wentaral?" Martin's voice sounded worried, and with good reason. I bet I looked like I was going insane, staring off in to nothingness with my arms wrapped around my upper waist.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my wolf pack?" I asked suddenly, surprising both him and myself.

"Ummm…Y-yes." He stuttered, blinking twice and then folding his hands in his lap. He looked at me quizzically. "Why?"

"The dream I just had…was set before I ever had a pack." I began. "Back when I was just a child living in Valenwood. For almost my whole life, I've been a werewolf, but there was a time when I was a young girl, just learning the secrets of magic and how to shoot a bow. I was so young when I changed…" I stopped and closed my eyes, reveling in my memories. I opened them again and looked at him. Martin seemed already riveted with my story, leaning in with his head propped on his left hand. I looked back at my hands, which were still clasped together in my lap, and continued my story.

"I was born into a wealthy family consisting of my mother, Xeanra, my father, Darwin, my biological sister, Desainete, my two biological brothers, Farenet and Zindart, my five step-sisters, Teress, Juliet, Ginny, Sara, and Victoria, and my six step-brothers, Rupert, Jacob, Camlin, Peirce, Hilgar, and Peter. I out lived them all, I suppose, except for my mother and my real siblings. Elves have very long lives, as you probably already know." I realized I was getting off topic and righted myself. "But I'll get to that later. My father married my mother for financial purposes in the beginning and then quickly fell in love with her. She was a lesser duchess at the time, a distant cousin to the king, and at the age of eighty-four, she was a real catch. Young and beautiful can have its come backs, though."

"You seem to be doing just fine." Martin muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked, even though I already knew what he had said.

"Oh! Ummm…n-nothing…" Martin stammered back, a deep blush streaking across his face. I continued on, the devilish smile I was wearing slowly slipping off my face.

"There was trouble in Valenwood over the debt we owed the monarchy of High Rock. We could not pay in gold at the time, and the Bretons were starting to get jumpy. The king finally came to a compromise. He asked for a new wife for a cherished cousin of his as collateral or they would mobilize for war. As it was, our king only had one daughter and she was married. Most of the baronesses and duchesses were too old or too young, and the ones that were suitable could not please Darwin. Then he met my mother. He became infatuated, completely love-struck. They became married and peace was restored. I was the product of their first year of marriage. Well, me and my sister."

"Do you mean Desainete?" Martin's sudden inquiry made me appreciate his attention to detail.

"No. I was going to mention it later in the story, but sooner is better than later, as Bosmers say. No, I have…had a twin sister. Her name was Merindala. She looked nothing like me, acted nothing like me…but we were inseparable. We told each other every little thing…which lead to my undoing in the end." I sighed. "But that was later." I readjusted my legs so that they were stretched out in front of me and propped my arms up behind me.

"I grew up relatively happy. I got just about everything I wanted. My sisters and brothers were always nice and around to play with. My parents were very loving and supportive, even with _this_." I held up my right hand for a moment, studying it closely for some reason or another. I set it back on the floor. "My father was actually the one who started my education in the arcane arts and my mother started teaching me the ways of the bow which had been passed down to her by her mother. Even then, when it was considered for a female to know any sort of self-defense a crime against society. It did not last long, however. Soon I had tutors instead of my parents to teach me all that I needed to know." I bite down a bit too hard on my lip to keep a solitary tear from slipping down my check. "Then I was changed. My mentor of the bow and arrow, the one who changed me, was also my first victim." I saw Martin shiver involuntarily. Our eyes met and he looked apologetic, not for just shaking, but also for that which had made him shiver. He seemed to know without me saying that killing someone was something I never again wanted to do if I didn't have to. His eyes pleaded for me to continue, so I did.

"His name was Hentaric. After my mother taught me everything she knew, she got me secret lessons with him to refine and advance my skills. 'I will give you something my parents were never able to give me. Peace of mind knowing you can defend yourself against the wild creatures of Valenwood'. I remember asking what creatures would possible hurt us in the city we were living in and she said 'The creatures of blood and flesh, like you and I, but that rely on their strength and brawn rather than their hearts and heads.'" I smiled despite myself, thinking back on those happier days and mother's words. "I realize she was talking about men. The ones who believed that they could get anything they wanted from women. Hentaric, on a certain level, was one of those men." I cracked a smile. "But then again, aren't they all?" Martin snorted.

"Hentaric was a good family friend. I trusted him. We all trusted him. One day, when I was only forty-nine-"

"_Only _forty-nine …" Martin smirked, shaking his head in wonderment.

"When I was only forty-nine…!" I continued then, pausing to make sure he wasn't going to interrupt again, relaxed and went along. "When I was only forty-nine- "

"You've said that three times now." He said with a crooked smile. _Ugh…_ I wrinkled up my face in the way of an angry grimace-pout.

"Fine, Martin, if you don't want to hear the rest…" I said as I sprang to my feet and sauntered out of the tent. The sun was high above my head when I strolled out, breaking through the still extremely dense clouds and creating different patterns of light as it shone through the rain drops. The ground was saturated in water, and soon, I was too. We were camped at the intersection where the Gold Road met up with the Red Ring Road. Well, we were pretty sure we were at the intersection for the two roads. _Someone _had lost the map, so it was kind of difficult to tell. I was about to sit myself down on one of the logs when I smelled the smoke again. This time, it was stronger. _The fire's died out a long time ago, _I thought as I looked down at the charred but now soaked logs lying in the fire pit. That was when I heard a faint crying through the pounding rain. My head snapped up. _ What the hell!?!_ It sounded like…oh, what was it? A young wolf cub, maybe? No, no, it sounded more like…I was right on the verge of getting it when Martin walked out of the tent.

"Oh, come on, Tri-"

"Shut up, Martin!"

Even though I still hadn't turned around to face him yet, I could tell he had folded his arms across his chest and was glaring holes into the back of my head.

"Wentaral, I don't think I deserve _that_." He muttered, kicking at a wet rock at his feet.

"No, Martin, I'm serious! Shut it!"

He sensed the urgency in my words and came to stand beside me, looking out over the plain with a more critical eye. I strand to listen, trying to hear the sound again, but to no avail. It was gone. I sniffed for the smoke, but the wind had changed directions and I couldn't smell it any longer.

"What is it?" Martin whispered so low I almost didn't hear him, which is pretty low considering Elves can hear a mouse scurry across a hard wood floor and on top of that, I'm a werewolf, which goes without being explained.

"I'm not sure." I said, shaking my head. Then deciding less of what it might be, I continued, "It's nothing now." I hesitated, making sure I hadn't missed anything, then turned back to him. I smirked. "Now what were you saying?"

"I was going to tell you to come back inside the tent before you got soaked and finish your 'memoirs', but…" He motioned towards my drenched attire. "It's kind of late now."

I laughed and poked him in the shoulder. "Well, if someone would have just kept his big yap shut, someone wouldn't have been forced to take drastic measures and leave the tent."

He placed his hands a on his hips and grinned at me. "No one forced you to do anything!"

I threw my hands up as I maneuvered around him and walked back to the tent. "You know, Martin, excuses are like butts."

"What!?!" I heard him say from behind me as he turned to watch my retreating back with puzzled amusement.

"Everyone has one." I finished with a smirk as I disappeared behind the flaps. I shivered from the cold, wet clothe clinging to my flesh, and I whipped off my shirt in an attempt to stem the cold at its source. The tent was warm and inviting, and Alima was still asleep, twitching ever so often, lost in dreams only she would ever understand. I smiled to myself as I rummaged through my main pack for a dry pair of clothes. It wouldn't have looked like it on the outside, but on the inside, the bag could stretch to unimaginable size to hold all my items if needed. I could never remember who gave the pack to me, though I had had it for a very long time, I knew that. I was so preoccupied by my quest for clothing that I didn't hear Martin's light foot falls outside the tent. That's why it came as a shock when he suddenly was inside the tent with me.

"W-Wentaral!" He sputtered, too surprised to react like any descent gentleman would have. He stood there and watched me straighten up, frozen in place like a deer in the crosshairs.

"Oh, come on, Martin. It's not like you've never seen me in my unders'. Don't tell me you forgot the waterfall?" I said, turning my head sideways to smirk at his bashfulness. He always looked so cute when he got all tongue-tied and embarrassed.

"N-no…Just…Ummm…" He looked anywhere, and I mean _anywhere_, just so he wasn't tempted to look at me_._ I frowned, losing the joy I was getting out of his discomfort, and slipped my arms into a different button-down shirt.

"Sit down, Error." I said with a sigh. "My Gods, are you always this reticent around this sort of thing?" Then quickly catching myself, I added. "Wait…Don't answer that."

He chuckled as he sat down in a tiny stool tucked against the right wall, behind me because, I guess, he wanted to hid the blush everyone gets when their put in one of those awkward situations. I looked down at my dry shirt and began buttoning it up.

"So, if I continue my story, do you pinky promise not to interrupt me?"

This time he full on laughed, pulling Alima out of her deep sleep. She growled softly and rolled over, asleep before he had even finished. I shivered again, and this time, it wasn't just from the cold.

"I pinky promise, you odd fiend!"

We hooked pinky fingers and shook, laughing the whole time.

"Well, let's see," I said, the large grin still plastered on my face as I sat down at his feet. "Where was I again?"

"Ummm…," He ran a hand through his lose, light brown hair. "You were talking about how you were forty-nine years old and…" He rotated his hand in an _alright, go ahead_ sort of motion.

"Yes, that's it. Well, one day, when I was at practice with Hentaric, he asked me out of the blue if I would like to go on a short hunting expedition to test my skills before we finished our lessons for good. Of course, I said yes. He was a family friend, my mentor, and I had come to trust and in some ways depend on him. He was like a father figure to me, in a ways. The day after the next, we set out into one of the many lush, green forests surrounding the city and began hunting almost immediately. We were chasing down a yellow tailed pig when I realized I was all alone. I stopped and began calling Hentaric's name when suddenly, I got the terrible feeling that I was being stalked, that I was being _studied_, by something very dangerous. The next thing I remembered was waking up next to Hentaric's dead body and having the realization of what he was, what I had become, and what I had done."

"I ran back to our campsite and stayed the night, trying to sort out all the thoughts and images in my head. Finally, after sorting it all out, I decided to live as I was for however long it took for me to gain enough money and then I would skip town. In the mean time, I would stay incognito and make a cover story for the whereabouts of Hentaric. I came back home and told my parents Hentaric had been carried off by a pack of wolves and I had not been able to recover his body. They mourned, but I did not. He had turned me into, and this is what I thought at the time, a monster. I could not mourn for killer, and he was a killer because, in truth, he took my life from me. After awhile, I grew hungry, and I ate, but the food only gratified a part of the hungry. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I indulged in human flesh for the second time, then a third. I let my wild side run away with me and, eventually, it became a regular thing. It was going smoothly until Merindala put the local killings and my late nights together into a story that made perfect sense. She confronted me and told me to tell her what was going on. "

"And I told her, because I trusted her."

"She told me she wouldn't say a thing, even though she eventually would, because, like my father would soon believe, she thought I was no longer her sister, but more of a 'wolf in sheep's clothing', if you will. Blending in so I could kill and eat them all." My voice broke on the last word and I could feel tears fifty plus years old stinging my eyes. I blinked rapidly and turned my head away so Martin couldn't see my eyes and nose turning red as they usually did when I cried. I saw from the corner of my eye Martin's hand move forward to touch my shoulder, but then it stopped and placed itself back under his chin. I continued on, the tears drying and my voice steadying the more I spoke.

"She went after a few days and told my father, who instantly took action against me. He called for the guard of the city to come and seize me, then take me to the capital for trial. I escaped before we ever reached it, but I was badly hurt in the process." My hand came up involuntarily to the now tiny scar above my eye that was the only remainder of those days. Well, that and the memories…

"I ran away from Valenwood, away from my family and friends, away from everything I had known. I wandered around restlessly, and with no food source and deep wounds, I became weak. Finally, I collapsed and when I came to, I was in a cave. There was someone next to me, tending to my wounds. He told me I was safe and no one would hurt me now." I smiled and sniffled again, the tears welling up in my eyes once more. _Oh, Stendarr, have mercy! Why do I get so emotional when I think about this shit?_ I wiped quickly at my face and continued.

"That didn't last very long, either, but the time I did spend with the Hidden Waters Pack taught me a lot. They showed me how animals were a good substitute for human flesh, and I learned most of my healing from them. They taught me to 'morph' on command. I became a part of their family." I griped at the square, silver amulet I always wore, the large opal set in its middle a symbol of the Hidden Waters cave and its residents. It had been given to me by the now late alpha, signifying my stake to the leadership of the pack. I sighed, more of a soft, haggard groan than anything else. "But difference in opinions about my leadership, once I got it, caused conflict among my brethren that ultimately ended in…bloodshed." _The killing of my love…But Martin doesn't need to know that. I'd rather save him the heartache. _ "The only one who had stood beside me was killed and I was forced to run for my life. Then, after days of traveling towards the border between Valenwood and Cyrodil, I found Alima." I smiled down at the serene head of one of my greatest friends. I gentle rubbed her ear and she sighed happily in her sleep. "She was the outcast of her pack, much like me, but she was tolerated because the pack was small and they needed everyone. Like anyone who has been kicked one too many times, she was very skittish around me. I was a new scent in her territory, and she did not like it one little bit."

"Okay, wait. Let me get this straight…" Martin held one hand up to stop me, the other rubbing his temple in deep thought. "So, you're related to royalty…"

"Yes." I nodded.

"You were turned into a werewolf by your archery teacher…"

"_Marksmen_…and yes."

"Your _twin _sister basically turned you in to the authorities but you escaped from them and ended up joining a pack of werewolves…"

"Yep."

"…who you became the leader of…"

"Uh huh." I answered, fiddling with my sleeve.

"…but then they turned on you and forced you to run to Cyrodil…"

"Yeah." I nodded my head again, one eyebrow rising questioningly.

"…and then you found Alima."

"That's right."

Martin leaned back again. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure I got everything so far."

I toke that as my queue to continue. "Well, alright. Ummm…So, I eventually gained Alima's trust after a long, long time of bribery and, finally, she decided to come with me. We ran for another two weeks or so until we reached the border. We were home free from there. They wouldn't have follow us _that_ far. We kept going until we reached the Red Ring Road, and then traveled that for awhile until we reached Wawnet Inn. A quick jaunt across the bridge and the Imperial City was right there." I sighed, remembering how that had been just a month ago, though it felt like a whole life time had gone by since then.

"We stopped there just for the night. All was going fine until one of the male patrons got drunk. Sure," I said, rotating my hand from one side to the other. "I guess you could say I was a little drunk. I had only had a beer… or four, but that didn't mean I was gonna let him treat me like a piece of trash. There was a little brawl, nothing major. But of course, the barmaid just had to go call the guards." Martin's barely there grin had just gotten bigger and bigger as I had continued talking about the bar, and I found myself smiling along with him. They began to fade though as I began to speak again.

"Alright, the guy might have had a broken arm when I was done with him, but it wasn't like I had started it. Of course, the guards wouldn't listen to any of that. Next thing I knew, I was in jail and, well, you know the rest after that." I looked up into his face to see what his reaction was. His eyes were closed and his face was twisted in deep thought. _Uh oh…_

"Ummm…Martin?" I asked, my tone soft with worry and fear. He opened his eyes.

"I'm fine, just…" He smiled, although it was a little half heartedly. "just taking it all in."

I frowned at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." He repeated, this time with a bit more strength. His checks regained their tan-ish pink flush again, and that made me feel better, for I had thought he might get sick all over me, I wanted some warning if I was going to get vomited on.

"Alright, if you insist." I got up and started towards the door. "Start getting ready and packing up the site. I'll make breakfast and we'll have it before we leave." I whistled at Alima to come and we walked out tent.

****

"_Stupid animal." One of the guards said, kicking me hard in the head from where I lay, curled up in a ball, trying to protect myself to no success. My head exploded with pain, and I yelped out. Without my intention, I growled at him, holding my head in my hands, the glove on my right slightly ripped and soiled. _

"_Don't fuck with it too much, Cole. It might strike out at you, rip you limb from limb. Didn't you hear the death count for how many that thing has killed?" Another said, his words slightly slurred from alcohol and moon sugar._

_Cole glared down at me with the most disgusted, hate filled look. "No, I reckon I haven't." He spit on me one last time, and then went to go sit with the rest of his posse."Don't make much of a difference."_

"_I heard," one of the females say, leaning in so they could hear her better. "It was over a thousand!_

_The resounding gasps meant that most of them were taken aback by this. Some of them were silent._

"_That's not true, Zeringial!" The second voice chimed in again. "I heard it was less than a hundre'!" There were murmurs of agreement to this, some of dissimilarity. The other guard huffed in anger._

"_Oh, fuck off, Brightad! Why you got to go and shit on a good thing?" The female, Zeringial, was obviously not amused with her story being disproved. They all chortled at this, and then went back to getting drunk and high. I curled up even more, trying to keep myself warm. The blood oozed out of my forehead, and after awhile, I fell unconscious._

****

_Eleventh day together, 8:25 am_

The long, dark plume of smoke rising up behind the curtain of trees was what set us off and running. The rain had stopped only a half an hour ago and we had started to pick up the site. We had finished and were traveling towards Chorrol again when the clouds had cleared the sky, the wind stopped blowing, and everything came flooding in. The smells of charred flesh, smoke, and wood. The sound of a roaring fire and the cries of birds and wildlife. Best case scenario? A small forest fire. Worst case scenario? A repeat of Kvatch.

We ran hard, kicking up dust and leaves as we made our way down the slightly overgrown trail. I heard a scream up ahead and I pumped harder. Alima was the first to burst out into the clearing, followed closely by Martin and myself. What met our eyes could be best described as a small apocalypse. A house was blazing smack in the middle of the clearing, red and orange flames licking and laughing manically in the sky. Five charred bodies lay scattered about, some dismembered, some still on fire. Some where both. Martin almost saw the black berries and morning flower bread I ate for breakfast magically reappear when I noticed that four of the corpses were far too small to be adults. A quick glance to the right brought me the unexpected sight of a young male Redgaurd, on his knees and unconscious, being held up by his hair. A Imperial female, rugged and crazed, brought up a short little knife, holding it up to stand on the neck of the young boy. Before I could even udder a word, she slit his throat. No mercy, no compassion. He fell to the ground with a sick gurgling sound as she laughed in glee. A small group of two stood around the burning mass of wood and flesh, cheering like some demonic cultists. Perhaps they were, but from the looks of them, they were probably most defiantly-

"Slavers!" Martin yelled, his silver short sword twinkling hazily in the sun. Even though slavery was illegal in Cyrodil, people would still capture humans, beast folk, and elves alike and sell them in Morrowind, were slavery was still an excepted practice. Slavers were wicked. If they were met with resistance, you would be killed in the most brutal of fashions. If anyone was still alive, they would be captured and sold, treated like cattle and property for probably the rest of their lives. From the looks of it, no one had survived.

Then a feminine scream emanated from the smoking ruins. _Or maybe someone had…_

Alima launched herself at the nearest slaver, which happened to be the Imperial female. She began promptly taking part in ripping her to shreds as the other two closed in on Martin. There was a loud crack and Martin turned his head to look behind me.

"Wentaral! The house!" I whipped my head around to look at the house, which was beginning to falling in on its self.

"Help! Oh my Gods, please! I'm burning!" A young girl pounded weakly on a window inside, unable to get out.

"Shit." I said, mind racing. _You're too far away, _the voice in my head said. _You need to DO something! _It said again, which was equally helpful. A thought occurred to me that I turned about in my head.

"But I haven't done that in forever…" I mumbled to no one in particular.

"Wentaral!" Martin screamed at me again, cutting into one of the slavers and blocking the blow from another. Another splintering noise came from the collapsing building.

_Do it._

I gave a running start at the house, dropping my bow and sprinting as hard as I could. A good twenty feet from the structure, I jumped into the air and morphed. My body exploded in a ball of grayish-white fur and my clothes disintegrated into shreds at my feet. I gave a howl as I hurtled- twice the speed I had been going- towards the house and its unfortunate occupant. I burst into the house as it collapsed around me.

"WENTARAL! NO!"

_Sorry, Martin._


End file.
